Battle Born
by chellybelly615
Summary: Emerald Bracegirdle, a 26 year old teen who has already been nailed down by responsibilities, is forced to take on even more. By chance, the young Hobbit gets wrapped up in a quest that is not hers to embark on. Pippin/OC. Typically follows the book, but I'll most likely throw in some movie-verse.


Vivid memories plagued me my entire life. My younger brother often had nightmares of them, and for the first 14 years of his life he was too traumatized to speak. In fact, to this day I still have episodes where I can remember- I can envision- the exact events of that night. Waking up in the middle of the night to a man cloaked in black on top of me. I still feel the searing pain of the knife pressing against my collar bone, a failed attempt to slit my throat. My little brother was hiding in the closet. He was terrified and soiled himself, nearly alerting the murderers of his position. One did notice, but he kept his head down and didn't say anything. Whether he's a saint among demons, I still don't know.

They told me I'm lucky, that it could have ended much worse. I should be dead, and would be if the blade was just an inch higher. He didn't hit my artery; instead, he merely scraped my bone.

I raised my brother Vargo for the past sixteen years- since he was seven and I was ten. Of course, I wasn't alone. Our elderly Great Aunt on our father's side happily took us in, the angel. To this day, she is the sweetest woman I've ever met- Hobbit and human alike. She raised us in the orchard and taught us well.

Now, eleven years later, I've less than a decade before I'm a full-fledged adult. Vargo, poor kid, is only twenty-three years old. Aunt Rose worries for him. While other kids his age have been flirting with girls, Vargo was always on the shy side. He only recently began speaking again.

I, on the other hand, know him very well. He's worried that if he falls in love and gets married, somebody will come back to finish the job.

The two of us, for obvious reasons, have shunned ourselves from the Shire society. Of course, we know many people. We just choose to be alone. Solitude is something many Hobbits aren't familiar with, so we don't expect them to understand.

Typically my brother and I stay in the orchard. When we get our volunteered workers, Vargo has been taking to manage them; Aunt Rose is getting old, after all. Sometimes I wonder if us living with her was to save us from an orphanage or to save her from losing her orchard. Either way, it worked out, and Vargo's the heir to her land.

She offered to place me as an heir, but I refused. Vargo enjoys it more than I would, I told her. He can take care of it. Honestly, though, I am still slightly affected by something my cousin told me. "Nobody wants a smart girl," he told me, frowning. Roldo was a good friend of mine, and had said it with no malice. "Look at them." We were sitting on the corner of the street that day, watching the market scene. At the time I was eighteen. It was only three yeard before Roldo died. "I used to come here and try to find somebody. Flirt with them. But..." Roldo shook his head, laughing nervously. "You know I'm not a romantic Hobbit, Emerald."

I laughed. "I'll say."

"And a lot of these girls here, they're sweet. Pretty. Nice. But I never wanted those things. I mean, they're pluses, aren't they? But I've always wanted a girl I could talk to. Someone who wouldn't just blindly agree with me. I know a lot of boys my age want that, don't they? I don't. I want somebody smart, somebody who can stand up for themself. I knew somebody like that. She was my best friend growing up. Em, you don't know, but she was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Do you know what happened to her?" I shook my head, suddenly very interested. "She let them change her. She started acting stupid, like she couldn't think for herself. She married somebody who treated her wrong." Roldo trailed off, shaking his head. "You're good, Em. You're smart, you're pretty, you're- you're strong. A lot of people won't like that. Just- just promise me." He turned to me and grabbed my hands between his. "Promise me you won't let anybody change you to fit their mold."

I laughed. "Come on, Roldo. It's me. You think I'd let that happen?"

My cousin nervously chuckled. "No, I s'pose not. It would just be nice if you promised. Look, you're not like a lot of them. I've seen you pick fights with boys older than you because they made fun of your brother."

"And for a right cause, too. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would, but the point is not many girls would do that. I can have a straight conversation with you. You will argue with me if I'm wrong on something, and you have no hesitation in doing so. I just don't want to see you lose your determination."

I smiled at him. "You won't. I promise."

Of course, Roldo died three years later in a freak accident. He was a trader, to the dismay of our neighbors. His cart went off-road and slid into the Brandywine. Like Frodo's parents before him, he drowned.

A number of our neighbors in the Shire have taken a liking to my family's stories. Hobbits are naturally obsessed with family history, as there's nothing more to do here than spread rumors for fun. A number of them treat us like we're odd, and try to avoid them. I don't exactly blame them, either. We are odd. Our branch of Bracegirdles is nearly as odd as the Brandybucks, God forbid.

"This is kind of annoying," Vargo had whispered to me one day when we were entering the market. A group of Hobbits were standing clumped together, sending us frequent and not-so-discreet glances.

I groaned. "Very."

"Why do you think I spend half my time in the Green Dragon?"

"It's a great place?" Vargo laughed.

"That too. You've been, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I have. I've been going longer than you."

We went home then, frustrated with the scene.

When we returned home, Aunt Rose was cooking elevensies, to Vargo's delight. After witnessing the death of our parents, we had different reactions. Vargo was silent. I sometimes forgot to eat. Even now, I only really eat up to three meals a day (except on special occasions when I'm forced), which is rather uncommon for a Hobbit. "Auntie, I'm going to go outside for a bit."

Aunt Rose frowned. "You're not going to eat?" Vargo was watching me blankly.

I shook my head, smiling politely. "I'll probably eat an apple out there or something. Thank you, though."

"Be back soon! It's Daliah's birthday today!"

I walked between the rows of trees, breathing in the sweet smell of brilliance. It was peaceful here, and I often had time to think when I was out in the orchard. The many trees produced a screen of marbled shade across the drying ground. Autumn is my favorite time of year; the excellence and colors brought out a different beauty to nature. It's odd to think that the most beautiful time of the year only looks this way because the world around me is dying.

Yet this breed of apple ripens in the Autumn. This tree is in its prime when all others die.

Sighing, I continued to slowly stroll under the trees. The leaves rustled quietly above me in the light wind. I felt ease inside of me and slowly closed my eyes. They flew open again when I heard a different kind of rustling. One less smooth and rhythmic; one more unnatural. I made a sharp turn, walking at a much quicker pace toward the noises.

"Let me- no!"

"Here! Maybe if you move over-"

"Ow, ow! Stop, you're hurting me!"

I sped up to a light jog, looking around. When I reached the source of the noise, I couldn't help but grin. "Now, that looks tricky!" I called, propping my fists up on my hips.

Two young Hobbits were caught in a net, suspended well above my head. When they heard my voice, the shifted vigorously, trying to see the newcomer. "Hey, lady! Can you let us down!"

Rolling my eyes, I began began to climb the tree. "Meriadoc Brandybuck," I noted, peering at the one who spoke to me. "And Peregrin Took. Nice to meet you again."

"It would be nicer if we weren't stuck up here!" Pippin chirped.

"I'm going, I'm going." I pulled myself up onto the branch above them. "Uh, this might hurt, but it's better than getting someone to help me, I can assure you. They'd kill you."

"We can handle it!" Merry called.

"Okay," I said doubtfully, smiling apologetically. I slipped my knife from my skirt and began to saw on the rope. Slowly, the weight of the net ripped the rope, sending the hobbits falling to the ground. They hit with a loud thump and a groan. "Are you alright?" I called, hopping from the tree.

"Alright!" Merry called back. I put the knife back in its sheath and held out my hands, helping them up.

"Sorry about that," I apologized quickly, peering up at them. "We've been getting apples stolen lately, so my brother and I set this little trap up." I beamed proudly down at the net, almost not noticing their guilty look.

"Well," Pippin said, smiling innocently. "I wish you luck on that!"

"Hold on!" I called as they began to quickly walk away. "Do you want apples or no?"

The boys stopped. "What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes, smiling widely. "You don't have to steal. And I hope you don't again. Next time, I won't be here to save you."

"I'm sorry," Merry said. "Who are you?"

Pippin shoved him. "That's the girl that lives here! She's the one that-" Pippin trailed off, eying me. "You know. I'm sorry, he's not very bright."

"I'm not very bright?" Merry asked, staring at his cousin incredulously.

I laughed. "It's alright. Here." I picked and tossed each boy an apple. "I trust I'll see you at the party?" Daliah is Merry's cousin.

"Of course!" Pippin chirped.

"Take care," I told them, retreating. "And don't let me catch you trespassing again. If my brother found you, I trust he'd murder you first and ask questions later. That's sort of our family motto."

"So I hear," Merry laughed. Pippin was staring at the apple in his hand happily. I waved them off and walked away, headed home and taking a bite out of my apple.

"Blues and greens suit you, you know." I nodded.

"So you tell me."

Aunt Rose grinned at me. "Here. It'll look good on you." She placed a dark green dress in my arms.

I slipped it over my undershirt. "How do I look?" I spun a little, showing off the dress.

Rose went silent. "You look beautiful," she told me quietly. "You remind me a lot of your mother."

I went silent. Smiling solemnly, I thanked her.

Rose went on, changing the tone of the conversation. "You must have a boy waiting on you!"

I laughed and turned away from her, fixing my hair in the mirror. "No, Auntie. Nothing has changed since yesterday."

"I just don't understand how such a pretty girl doesn't have every boy chasing after her!"

"They're intimidated by her brother." We looked up to see Vargo leaning in the doorway. He is huge; tall, well-built, and handsome. In all honesty, he may be intimidating to anyone other than me. I still see that terrified, innocent boy I raised. The boy who didn't talk for half his life. The boy I was forced to defend as a child.

"I expect you to let her have fun tonight, Vargo."

Vargo rolled his eyes, chuckling. "I always do, don't I?"

"He does," I agreed. "Honestly."

Rose sighed dramatically. "I'm sure you do. I just mean the boys are intimidated by you. Nobody's going to approach her when you're there."

"If they do, they're crazy," I laughed.

"Or brave. Either way, anyone willing to come up to you with me there has my respect."

"At least you're humble."

We arrived at the party early, as promised. When Daliah saw me she squealed and sprinted toward me, to the dismay of her parents. "Emmy!" She laughed, jumping into my embrace. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

Daliah is only four years younger than I am. Her 22nd birthday is a big deal for her. "How are you doing, love?"

"Good! Two-thirds to thirty-three! How are you?"

I laughed. "I'm good!"

"Good! Come here, we need to talk. Hi Rosemary! Vargo!"

My brother and great aunt waved as Daliah pulled me aside. "Okay, I'm inviting tons of my cousins and friends. They're all around our ages, some older, but none older than 36! They're all pretty different, too."

I blinked. "I don't get it."

Daliah sighed dramatically. "You're setting me up with your brother. The least I can do is find somebody for you!"

I felt heat rush to my cheeks and I shook my head viciously. "No, no, I'm okay!"

"Oh, do you have somebody in mind?"

"Absolutely not." I laughed nervously. "I'm just not so good at this dating game." Sighing, I muttered, "And why is everyone so interested in this?"

Daliah looked excited. "Something the great Emerald is not good at?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That's impossible. I've just never tried it."

Daliah laughed at my fake confidence. "Something I'm better than you at. This is great." I groaned.

"Merely something I'm not too keen on participating in," I argued.

"You're 26. Half out of your teens, and you haven't even had a fling!"

"I'm just not interested in that kind of relationship."

"One day you'll fall in love and be forced to apologize to me. Anyway, that's not why you're here. Thank you for coming to my party!"

"It's no problem!" I assured her, smiling widely. "Though I may be forced to leave rather early. I promised some of the fieldhands I would help them."

"No, you're not," Rose said, approaching. "They can help themselves. You work too much, and deserve a day off!"

Vargo walked beside her and slung an arm around me. "I'll go back later. I'm the one that's inheriting this place anyway. You shouldn't even have to help me."

"I don't have to, I want to. You're my little brother. Everything I do is to look after you, you know."

"As adorable as this is," Daliah said, "we should really start setting up."

And so we did. The three of us bustled around for the next hour, setting tables, fixing presents, and preparing food. By the time the guests were let in, everything was set up.

This party is not nearly as anticipated as one of the others. For example, my older friend Frodo Baggins always throws a large bash for himself and his no longer present cousin Bilbo. Bilbo, if he's still alive (the majority of us doubt that) will be about 128 by now. Bilbo was always popular, and his popularity was inherited by his heir. Daliah, on the other hand, is as poor as my family in both wealth and social ability.

Daliah herself is not a Brandybuck, but a Bank. She is distantly related to Merry, living in Buckland, but is not a resident of Brandy Hall. Still, most of the Brandybucks and their relatives are coming. A number of Tooks and Bolgers are going to be there, and, I suppose, the dishonored branch of the Bracegirdles (that's us). Our mother yields from the Underhills, a bloodline from Bree. My brother and I rely on friends and foreigners for our parties, though we tend to skip them more times than not.

I stayed with Daliah most of the party. After a while of greeting the far-too-large family of Brandybucks, she didn't stay to meet half of them. We were then called over by Daliah's grandmother, and managed to barely escape with our lives by hiding in the cellar. There we stayed for at least twenty minutes, laughing and joking, until somebody came looking for us.

"Daliah? Are you down there?" The two of us shut up and scurried backwards, hiding in the shadows. We were trying desperately not to laugh at our game. "I promise your grandmother won't bother you anymore if you come out."

I recognized the voice as her grandfather, Hugo Bank. Like a criminal making demands, she called, "And under what conditions can you ensure that won't happen to me?"

I joined her in her negotiations. "How do we know this isn't all some false pretense, and you're not on her side?"

"On her side?" Hugo laughed. "Emerald, is that you? Why would I be on her side? I married her!"

Daliah hesitated. Glancing at her, I awaited her answer as she thought it over. Smiling, she stood up. "Fair enough!" She quickly ran across the room to hug her grandfather. I lagged behind.

"How have you been, Mr. Bank?"

Hugo laughed. "Daliah, Ms. Bracegirdle has manners. You should learn a thing or two from her. Very good, Emerald!"

"She should teach me?" Daliah asked, astonished. They separated and we all began our ascent up the stairs. "I taught her all she knows, pops."

We exited the house, to where the party was. Daliah always believed parties faired best outside, especially after witnessing Bilbo's eleventy-first when she was only 6. "I remember the fireworks. Oh, Emmy! I wish you lived here to see it!" Of course, it was only a couple years before the incident occured and we moved closer to Hobbiton.

Daliah slipped her hand into mine and dragged me away. "Come here, I want to introduce you to a couple people."

She tugged me toward the entrance, where Merry and Pippin were bartering with Daliah's mother. "I swear to you, my husband gave you your gifts."

Pippin shook his head. "No, ma'am. I daresay he forgot us."

Merry jumped in, defending his cousin. "Honestly! We must have been skipped over when we entered!"

Daliah laughed, startling them. They spun around to stare at us. "Trying to scam me out of another gift, are you? No matter. Merry, Pippin, this is my best friend Emerald."

"We know!" Pippin said cheerfully.

"It's true," I confessed, smiling sheepishly. "I caught them stealing from the orchard just today."

"Good!" I stared at her. Daliah blushed visibly. "I meant good, as in, you know. You're all already well-acquainted."

"I'm sure you did," Merry teased.

"Oh, shut it! Im beginning to regret introducing you."

As they argued, Pippin quietly shuffled to my side. As if he was making a deal of another kind, he nudged me slightly and muttered, "Did you bring any apples?"

I fought back a laugh at his discreet plea. "Sorry, no. No, I didn't." Seeing his falsely dejected look, I added, "But we have a stand at the market in Hobbiton every Wednesday and Friday!"

"Pity," Pippin sighed; it was Saturday.

"I'll tell you what. You and your cousin can over whenever you want, if you want apples. We have far too many anyway, and I'm really getting tired of apples for every meal."

Pippin laughed. "I may have to take you up on that." We went back to watching the argument.

My brother walked up to my other side. "What's happening?" He asked.

"Merry- that's the boy- and Pippin here were making fun of her. They're all cousins, you know. She's arguing just for the fun of it now."

Vargo sighed, watching it with us. Turning to Pippin, he held out his hand. "I'm Vargo. I'm Emmy's little brother."

"Little, right," Pippin muttered, shaking his hand. I glared at him.

"I know," my brother laughed. "Everyone messes that up. It's because she's so short, that's why." I shoved him.

"I'm Pippin," he introduced.

"Oh, I know. You're Peregrin Took! I've seen you around. Nice to meet you, Pippin."

"You as well."

Vargo looked back at Daliah. "I'll save your friend, if you'd like."

"That would be good," I told him.

Vargo stepped away from us and tapped on Daliah's shoulder. She spun around and stared up at him, eyes wide. "I was going to ask if you wanted to dance, but I see you're busy. Maybe later." He began to walk away.

"No! Wait!" Daliah ran after him.

Merry rejoined us, looking quite worked up. "Are you alright?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"I've been through worse."

"I don't believe it," I grinned. "She's rather terrifying."


End file.
